


Happy Anniversary

by fortheloveofwords



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anniversary, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 21:02:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/854013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortheloveofwords/pseuds/fortheloveofwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Dean and Cas' seven-year anniversary. Cas tries to make a pie in honor of the special occasion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Anniversary

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kickassanakin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kickassanakin/gifts).



> Okay hi guys!  
> So I realize that this isn't the best thing I've ever written, and I'm fully aware of that, I promise. But it's not the worst thing either, and considering that I was feeling deliriously sleepy the other night when I was writing this, I think this turned out pretty okay.  
> But you're probably not asking: why did you write this piece? Well, my inquiring, curious readers, my boyfriend and I decided to do something kinda interesting for our one-year anniversary. Since we're both young, pretty much broke, enjoy writing and aren't in the mood to go shopping for a normal present, I suggested that we instead write each other a short(ish) fic to present to each other as anniversary gifts. So that's what these are! :)  
> You can go see tranland's gift to me on his page, by the way! It's super cool! :D

September 18th was a special day to Castiel Novak for many reasons. One of these reasons being that he loved the month of September, because depending on where you lived, it would be both the final month of what felt like warm summer and the beginning of a crisp fall, his favorite time of year. Another reason would be the fact that 18 was Castiel’s favorite number – there was no logical rationale to this preference of his either, it just was; the number eighteen truly just looked nice on paper.

But most importantly, September 18th marked Dean and Castiel’s seven-year relationship anniversary.

They had met in their third years of college in a certain psychology class that neither of them really wanted to be in, but needed a particular kind of credit in order to graduate the following year. He remembered that class vividly too – Dean flying in, almost late, on the very first date, his backpack on his shoulder and a large stack of books in his arms as he wildly gesticulated about himself and explained to the haggard, grumpy old professor that the line in the student store was “fucking unbelievable”. The professor didn’t take to his swearing much at all, and simply told him to take a seat, the nearest one – and the one he took – being on the leftmost end of the second row, directly beside Castiel who, in all honesty, wasn’t terribly excited for this flustered young man to be sitting next to him for the next hour and a half. But as it turned out, sitting next to Dean wasn’t so bad at all, and they would eventually start doing it every day; he was kind in his own ways and made a lot of puns and bad jokes that most people would probably just sneer at or blatantly ignore, though Castiel found them unfortunately hilarious and endearing.

Anyhow, seven years of being in a successful relationship felt important to him. Important enough that trying to learn how to bake a pie felt like it would suit the occasion better than anything else. In all honesty, Castiel was completely out of other good, plausible ideas to impress Dean and cooking something the man loved seemed like a pretty foolproof idea. Well, foolproof as long as he could figure out how to bake the apple pie Castiel knew Dean would enjoy.

Finding the recipe took more of the preparation time than he had planned for and had hoped to have, considering that there were an innumerable amount of pie recipes on the internet, not all of them sounding as appetizing or as trustworthy as others. There were some that wanted to make it very easy for the aspiring baker and called for pre-made pie crusts or canned fruit, but that wasn’t what Castiel was looking for. He didn’t trust the pre-made piecrusts, they were too fragile for his liking and never turned out quite the way they should have, and canned fruit just seemed wrong for pie. Then there were the recipes for pies that were just not fitting for the occasion. Dean was a man of simple tastes, therefore the pie he would be eating that night should be of a similar quality, so a cinnamon-vanilla-apple-blueberry-guava-something kind of pie that some people were trying so hard to endorse would not work in the slightest. Not tonight. Then of course there were the recipes that over-complicated the entire process by under-using words that a normal person would be able to follow in terms of cooking instructions. For example, Castiel didn’t see the reasoning behind using the term “finely chopped” over its simpler counterpart: sliced. Honestly, to whom were these online recipe-makers trying to appeal to? Furthermore, there were a great many recipes that looked far too short for the task at hand, as if they skipped a step or five, or just tried unsuccessfully to explain their process of pie-making through pictures. Castiel had even tried looking through YouTube for a video on making a pie – the first one he clicked was of a young woman who expressed her own distaste for baking while getting drunk and making puns most of the way through – certainly amusing, but not exactly helpful.

But when he finally found one that worked, Castiel printed out the recipe and headed towards the kitchen, mentally assessing himself about where each of the ingredients he needed would be. Flour, sugar and brown sugar were in the cupboard, butter was in the refrigerator, apples were sitting on the counter where he’d put them earlier, and water would be where it always was – the tap. He measured out each of the ingredients with more meticulousness than was really necessary, but then again, this was for Dean, and he worked very hard every day of his life, so the man deserved something nice and sweet like this at least every once in a while.

Castiel thought about how Dean had promised to pick up something they could easily heat in the oven on his way home from work, considering that they promised to split the cooking part of this anniversary dinner. Unfortunately, Dean would be at work until 8 o’clock that night, not leaving him with enough time to prepare the dinner he said he wanted to. In its place, they arranged for Dean to stop at the local Italian food store to pick up a lasagna dish, and both felt okay with this plan. Dinner at home could be pleasant, Castiel had soothed, emphasizing the fact that after the first day of coordinating the new employees at his auto shop, he probably wouldn’t be in the mood for making a home cooked meal, no matter what the occasion.

After finishing rolling out the thin, sweet dough for piecrust, Castiel moved onto the apples. The instructions said that they had to be peeled, cored and sliced, which were simple directions that he could appreciate and a task that could be finished quickly as well. In fact, the timer on the oven started going off while he was slicing the final apple, letting him know that the oven was done with its pre-heating. The following steps were easy enough to follow as well, starting with placing the bottom crust in the greased pan. Next came adding the peeled, cored and sliced apples onto the crust, adding more crust on top of that, and pouring the sugar and melted butter over the top crust before finally placing the pie in the oven.

Letting the oven do its job with the pie, Castiel strode into the dining room, looking over the modestly cluttered square table before advancing towards it, collecting armfuls of papers that belonged in the office, clothing that should have been in dressers and pieces of trash that needed to be disposed of so that the table could be properly set.

Properly set meaning: their one and only white linen table cloth spread over the table, two of their nicer blue china plates set across from each other on the table, the lesser-used cutlery sitting on either side of the plates, white napkins sitting atop said plates, a tall, slender wine glass sitting beside each plate and a two bottles of red wine chilling in a silver bucket of ice. When it was all set, Castiel enjoyed the way their tiny little dining room table looked, much more thoughtful and put together than it was at almost any other given moment.

“I’m home!” Dean called from the front door in the room over, the sound of the door closing following. He made a bit of noise as he made himself comfortable, stumbling around by the front door, trying to take his shoes and jacket off before shuffling over to the kitchen with a plastic bag from the Italian place.

“Welcome home, Dean,” He greeted with a warm smile, practically gliding up to his boyfriend before giving him a kiss of the same loving nature.

Their kiss lingered as Dean leaned into it, wrapping his free hand around Castiel’s hip while Castiel brought both of his hands around his boyfriend’s neck, interlacing his fingers together for a few moments before they pulled apart.

“Ready for dinner?” Castiel asked with a wide smile.

~

And that was how the night got started, the two of them sitting across from one another in the dining room, Castiel opening a bottle of wine and Dean serving the promised lasagna. The food was good, but as they both quickly found out, the conversation was better. Dean apparently had quite the day with the new employees at the auto shop, one of them being so inexperienced and uncoordinated that they had managed to loose one of Dean’s good wrenches in the mechanics of a car, a few others were “even worse than Sammy” with cars, and a couple were just okay at the job while most of them seemed to know what they were doing, which made Dean the happiest. Castiel then went on to explain his uneventful day: he’d spent it at the office in the city, translating Japanese until about 4:30pm, when he was allowed to clock out and return home for the weekend.

Though as the generously served food and alcohol sank into his system, Castiel felt himself smiling more than he might otherwise and laughing a little harder at the jokes and stories Dean told that he wouldn’t usually find so entertaining; Dean seemed to be behaving the same way and that served to make him smile just a bit more.

They were just getting into a playful game of footsy beneath the table, complete with soft yet uncontrollable laughter, when the oven’s timer started beeping from the kitchen.

“The pie’s ready,” Castiel breathed out of his laughter, untangling his feet from Dean’s and half-jogging, half-walking towards the oven. The oven door squealed as it opened and shut, but Castiel was too busy taking in the success that was his attempt at a homemade apple pie. Cutting two slices out of it, he was able to see that the consistency and appearance of the dessert had improved through baking, and the pie, though a bit burnt on the bottom and the outermost crust, wasn’t falling apart like he’d been slightly concerned about earlier. It held together just fine, and Dean looked absolutely delighted upon seeing and smelling it, his green eyes lighting up instantly.

“You’re awesome,” Dean murmured, gazing up at Castiel as he placed a plate of pie in front of him and pecked him on the cheek.

“Happy anniversary, Dean.”


End file.
